


Happiness Spring Cleans the Heart

by stellaretic



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Food, Gen, Loneliness, Misplaced Anger, no romance at play but some tidbits could be interpreted as sokai/sorikai and budding vanven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26672320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellaretic/pseuds/stellaretic
Summary: “Guess that was it after all! Look how happy he is!”“Happy?” Vanitas blinks. His disbelieving stare remains fixated on whatever anomaly is occurring beneath the crustacean’s eyes. “That doesn’t look like any smile I’ve ever seen.”“It’s about way more than just smiles, Vanitas.” Sora stakes this claim as wrists cross loosely in front of his ankles. “Liiiike... for all the grouchy faces you’ve been making, I know that you’re happy too! Or, I guess… happier than you used to be, anyway.”
Relationships: Kairi & Sora (Kingdom Hearts), Sora & Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts), Vanitas & Ventus (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Happiness Spring Cleans the Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sorunort](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorunort/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAMMI!!! hope you get some kinda kick out of this silly little story about two boys, a really dramatic reaction to being kicked out of the house for an afternoon and the colorful ways in which happiness can make itself apparent.
> 
> for a tiny bit of insight on vanitas’s development and why his head’s where it is at the start of this, it takes place around three to four months after he starts living with ven, aqua and terra.
> 
> for a fun fact, this is the first time i’ve written sora since i was like, 14!! i didn't realize how much i MISSED him......

“Now that you’re feeling better, we couuuuld… dig a moat!”

“No.”

“Race to the paopu tree!”

“Wouldn’t be much of a race.”

“Make dribble castles?”

“I’d rather be buried alive.”

“Ooh! I know! Let’s see who can hold their breath the longest.”

Vanitas sneers, golden irises flashing with a dull fraction of their former aggrieved intensity.

“Why don’t you try it on your own? Maybe I’ll get lucky and you’ll meet a watery end.”

Donning a pout that’s in no way an appropriate reaction to having death wished upon oneself, Sora puts additional weight on the palms he long since pressed into the sand, head lolling back alongside the action.

 _“Boooo_. You’re no fun.”

“Never claimed otherwise.”

Indeed he didn’t. It was his lookalike’s ardent insistence that they make their way out to this play island and Ventus’s that he accept—but that was all he’d accepted. The change of scenery and, to a lesser extent, the rickety and nausea inducing boat ride it entailed. There were no promises made on behalf of what it was they’d be doing once settled, if anything at all. As such, whiling the day away with paltry observation of gulls making their rounds and waves sweeping against the shoreline was perfectly within Vanitas’s autonomy.

Though he’ll sooner plunge himself into the ocean’s depths than admit it, his sulking has very little to do with being in the presence of someone so polar. In certain respects, Sora’s company is more agreeable than most of the alternatives. It’s the events that led up to the arrangement.

Aqua and Ventus’s supposedly annual initiative to cleanse the entire castle triggered the dark haired boy’s expulsion from the Land of Departure at large. If he had no intention of helping, he would only get in the way, or so they insisted.

To their credit, they were correct. With a faint twitch of the hand, he could—and _would_ —have Unversed milling through bags brimming with garbage, splattering sudsy water where it didn’t belong and tugging masks intended to shield mouths from surges of dust particles over unsuspecting eyes. Case specific samples of the typical brand of disorder he’s grown so fond of introducing on occasions where the serenity of those brilliant halls gets to be just a touch too stifling.

Could-have-beens aside, idling elsewhere was never something that Vanitas had been opposed to before. On most days, he comes and goes whenever he pleases, wandering aimlessly, although gradually more contentedly through dark portal after portal. This is, however, the first instance in which he’s had a restriction placed upon him. A barring of the entire premises that Ventus and his maimed little family offered up as shelter, predispositions notwithstanding, and would one day like for him to think of as _home_.

The word, even if only echoed within the confines of his own mind, begets a jolt of anxiety, upending the sag of his shoulders.

An everlastingly safe and warm place to return to? How unbelievably pathetic.

“Hey! Vanitas! Look! You made a friend.”

It was only a matter of time until another one of Sora’s outbursts. That was wholly anticipated. The suggestion that they’re in foreign company is what supplies additional fuel to Vanitas’s unrest, rousing a fever of adrenaline that runs cold at the split second he lifts his head and hones in on the ‘friend’ in question, flittering about just aside where he’s seated in the sand.

It’s a perplexing creature—and nothing like anything he’s ever seen. Beady, black ovals that he supposes are eyes bulge up from holes in its otherwise levelled carapace. Its entire body, appearing brittle in some places and razor-sharp in others, boasts a yellow that rivals that of the destiny entwining fruits dangling from the tree atop the nearby islet. When it moves, seemingly limited to two directions if it would like to be efficient about it, it’s on a parallel sextet of stalklike legs. Claws are poised at its front, one larger and more imposing than its other.

“What—” With the pads of his index finger and thumb set against either edge of its shell, Vanitas lifts the animate curiosity and holds it at eye level, squinting in the face of its wriggling. “ _—is_ this thing?”

“It’s a crab! You see a lot of ‘em on beaches, especially after the tide comes in. Couldn’t tell ya much else, though.” As Sora shuffles nearer, popping up onto both knees amidst his own observation of the crustacean, his trademark purpose driven grin comes alive. Vanitas could gag. “You want me to call Kairi? She used to pick them up and joke about putting them down my pants, and stuff, so she’s gotta know a thing or two.”

“Spare me. I have enough of a headache with _your_ voice grating against my skull. The last thing I need is another.”

Ambers flicker back to the so called ‘crab’ just in time to watch its mightier claw lunge and snap in attempts to inflict damage upon the arm that holds it aloft. The angle, however, makes any orchestration of vengeance or escape impossible. All of the amusement its vain wrestling provides is almost enough to make Vanitas miss the shuffling, steady taps and eventual dial tone at his immediate left.

_Almost._

“Hey, Kairi,” Sora begins, to which the grimace developing on the face of the one whose wishes were disregarded peaks. “I know you’re busy studying, and everything—“

_“I sure am. You should be doing some of that too, y’know.”_

“Yeah, yeah. But right now, I need you to tell me and Vanitas a thing or two about crabs!”

 _“That’s random,”_ the girl’s voice teases, a readiness to indulge in spite fluttering openly across its timbre. _“Well… crabs are basically like the spiders of the ocean. Not all of them live in water, though! Some hang out on land too. They’ve got a fair few predators and like to fight over silly stuff like hidey-holes and mates, so their claws and legs will fall off_ — _but it’s okay! They can grow them back. They’re pretty resilient little guys! Although their lifespans can be short, depending.”_

Between each and every one of the facts presented, the hero of light feels the need to coo with varying levels of unfeigned fascination.

There’s that profuse urge to gag again.

_“Oh! Crabs are really good to eat. Tasty, too.”_

“They are!” Sora stuns Vanitas by tilting his Gummiphone at an angle that puts his tyrranization of the poor creature in his grasp on full display. “Betcha didn’t know that Riku’s dad’s a fisherman! And he sure knows how to cook his catches. Makes a _mean_ crab kamameshi.”

 _“He_ does! _Maybe we should get Riku to talk him into treating us when we’re done with finals.”_

Though momentarily enraptured by the thought of whatever edible concoction it is that she and Sora are preaching about, Kairi refocuses on the topic at hand, removing the eraser end of a flowery writing implement from where it had been tapping away at the button of her nose.

_“So it wasn’t random after all! Don’t go holding onto him for much longer, okay Vanitas? They get hot really easily.”_

None too pleased about being told what he ought not to do, Vanitas furrows his brows, the ghost of a fang peeking out from behind a rising upper lip when Sora interjects.

“Y’think we should let him down somewhere cool?”

If Kairi had any reaction to the embers that could have crescendoed into a disgusting and fiery display, she doesn’t betray it in the least. Vanitas quietly assures himself that it’s frustrating for his ingrained impulse to draw strength from the energy of the negative emotion that failed to germinate and not the fact that his own emotions couldn’t be any less in check.

What he would have given—what he’d _still_ give—to be reborn an impassive being.

_“Yeah! I usually bring them to the cove. There’s plenty of shady and shallow spots.”_

“Got it! Thanks, Kairi.”

 _“Anytime. Well,_ mostly _anytime.”_

There’s an exchange Vanitas is certain he couldn’t hope to comprehend even if he weren’t coming down from what almost amounted to seething. The princess sticks her tongue out, produces a ridiculous sound and Sora follows suit. Judging by the laughter that tops it off, the behavior doesn’t appear to be derogatory in nature. Rather, it would have to be playful. Affectionate, even.

When Ventus’s face appears behind fleetingly drawn eyelids, he casts aside the unwanted association like a snake shedding parasite ridden skin.

_“Anyway… I better get back to it. Have fun, you guys!”_

The communication device now rendered inactive is carefully tucked away in the pants pocket that accommodated it prior. Positively gleaming with motivation, Sora springs upright and onto bare feet, parking both hands on his hips.

Clearly, Vanitas won’t be allotted the quiet time he’d like to continue moping.

“Welp! We’re off!”

“ _We?_ Why do I need to be dragged along?”

The brunette adopts an outrageous accent for his response, a single fist clenched and then swung for a similarly outrageous gesture.

“ _Yarrr!_ Ye sealed yer fate the moment ye took that there bucko up in yer mitts!”

Vanitas’s irked gaze slowly slides from his unfortunate companion to the coastline of the island from whence they came, then back again. During the resulting interlude, the captive crab makes two more futile swipes.

“Was I supposed to understand absolutely any of that?”

Frustration plain as the daylight, Sora heaves through a sigh, arms dangling low. His recovery is lamentably swift.

“‘Cause you’re the one carrying him, ya lily liver!” Just like that, he pivots on a heel and marches towards what Vanitas would assume is the direction of the cove that Kairi, in all of her royal esteem, has delegated their hands to. Despicable. “C’mon! It’ll take two minutes.”

As far as the darker haired boy’s brooding heart is concerned, even two measly minutes were too long to be spent doing anything other than deteriorating by the water, but he supposes he’ll take them over the alternative of four or more were he to stay put and encourage more badgering.

Glowering all the while—doubly so when Sora throws glances over his shoulders to keep tabs on his participation—Vanitas begrudgingly rises and follows with his prisoner in tow. By grace through sheer luck, mottled memories of the cutthroat threats he subjected Ventus to in the very spot his boots trace don’t overstay their welcome, rolling off his back with their passage through the doorway.

On the opposite side, Sora ignores a shoddy bridge and hops over an equally shoddy floodgate to touch down on the ocean level sands below, ushering for Vanitas to do the same.

“See this? Perfect spot, right?”

Sunny enthusiasm clashes with a storm cloud of a glare.

“How would I know?”

“You heard Kairi! Shade and shallow water.” A single eyebrow quirks as Sora falters, glancing up at the sky in thought. “That _is_ what she said, right?”

Repulsed by the idea of indicating that he paid mind to any one word that was uttered throughout the duration of that pointless phone conversation, Vanitas silently warps past the other teen, kneels and deposits the crab into a wide, scarce and oblong puddle that circumvents one of the many wooden beams propping up the structure overhead.

It fidgets for a moment, seeming uncertain, then takes a couple of steps backwards. In the shadows, it slows to a stop, soon beginning to produce a froth of bubbles from its miniscule jaws. A bizarre and indecipherable event to behold.

Sora, who crouches down nearby, appears unperturbed. More accurately, he’s downright ecstatic.

“Guess that was it after all! Look how happy he is!”

“Happy?” Vanitas blinks. His disbelieving stare remains fixated on whatever anomaly is occurring beneath the crustacean’s eyes. “That doesn’t look like any smile I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s about way more than just smiles, Vanitas.” Sora stakes this claim as wrists cross loosely in front of his ankles. “Liiiike... for all the grouchy faces you’ve been making, I know that you’re happy too! Or, I guess… happier than you used to be, anyway.”

A combative magic spell would have been less likely to put Vanitas on the defensive than that assessment. Prickling with nerves and ire alike, he points ocular daggers at the other keyblade wielder, daring him to continue.

“And why’s that, exactly?”

“Hmm… well,” Sora begins, toes nestling in damp grains. “You never wear that mask anymore. Plus, you’re hanging out with _me_ when you could’ve gone basically anywhere you wanted.” A sly glint sets sapphires aglow. “Sure, you’ve made your fair share of threats, but it’s pretty obvious you don’t mean anything by ‘em. They don’t got the same bite they used to.”

“That’s… inconsequential.” It isn't, but Vanitas can’t sit idly by and let Sora or anyone else feel reassured in their assumptions. Not when they’re about him. “And for your information, I _do_ mean them. Don’t get comfortable just because you haven’t pushed my patience past its limits thus far. It doesn’t mean you won’t.”

“ _Oookay._ Whatever helps you sleep at night, Vanitas. But just so you know, you’re a way easier read than you think. Take the bad mood you’re in, for one thing. That’s a sign that you’re happier too.”

Every fragmented facet of Vanitas, inside and out, screams incredulousness. Refusal. Denial.

“You gonna explain any of that? Even supposing I’m in a bad mood—which I’m not! This is just how I _am!_ How I was _made_ to be!” A note of desperation. The quaking of a hand set against a hollowed chest. “That ain’t a sign of happiness. It’s the exact opposite.”

In the pools of Sora’s eyes, there’s a degree of understanding that might be comforting to some. To Vanitas, it’s haunting, the accompanying notion that the armor he arrayed his emotions with was all but transparent dousing him with more mortification than anything else he’s been affronted with in his short and piteous life.

“It is if it’s ‘cause you’re missing what you’ve normally got.”

That’s the empty creature’s cue to lash out—smite and ravage and leave nothing within the scope of salvation in his wake—or at least, it would be, if a phantom memory of universes spanned with only sparing traces of the ones who matter most wasn’t crackling inside his ribcage, subduing each and every lick of flame.

While Sora broadcasts an irritatingly self-assured smile, blissfully unaware of the vicarious anguish and empathy he’s imparted, Vanitas huffs, grits out a, “Whatever,” and directs his attention back to the puddle out of spite.

If his counterpart’s words are to be believed, then—no.

Regardless of his words, is this sense of unease sprung from missing out on his usual routine truly a sign that he’s found happiness within it? What’s more, is that happiness something an entity like himself is meant to be indulging in? In such a short amount of time, has it undone years of relentless endurance training beneath his nose? Softened his skin to the extent that a forced departure from its embrace is made a piercing dagger?

Not too long ago, Vanitas would have lurched and barked raucous laughter at the thought that he’d ever allow himself to become so _weak_. In this moment, however, he can only think of the expressions that Sora and Kairi wore as they regarded one another. That warmth they’d shared and desire that coursed through him as he sat just close enough to feel it wafting.

If bonds and the things that embody them only amount to weakness, as Xehanort avidly claimed, then why has he grown to crave them so? Why was he better off yesterday, goading Ventus from atop the kitchen counter until the latter’s ruffled feathers nearly resulted in a burnt lunch, than he was today, grappling with the reality that he couldn’t spend his daytime hours doing the exact same?

 _Connections_ , he muses, scarred lips pursing. They’re mysterious and intangible things. Perhaps he should work to decide for himself whether their significance is something to be written off so carelessly. Then—just maybe—he’ll find the answers he seeks.

Anchored by the stimuli of that thought, Vanitas abruptly returns to the World, wherein it occurs to him that something is missing from its picture.

More specifically, the crab.

 _“Sora,”_ he blurts, soaking a glove with a frantic, unthinking splash. “The—”

“Hey, hey! It’s okay. See? He’s right over there.” The tip of Sora’s index finger highlights its location. “Must be makin’ one of those hidey-holes Kairi was talking about.”

That observation would appear to be correct. Their friend paces back and forth where the sand is predominantly dry, making the most of its larger claw to haul it out of the pit it’s creating and off to the side. Vanitas is so preoccupied with its repetitive motions that he doesn’t think to disguise the slow sigh of relief that’s puffed through his nostrils.

The regret he feels as Sora assaults his nearest bicep with little pokes and prods is unquantifiable.

“Aww. You were _worried_ , weren’t you? You went and got _attached_ to him, huh?”

“I was not!” One swat too many is aimed at the offending wrist. “I couldn’t care less what happens to that oversized piece of gravel!”

“It’s written all over your face, though!”

There should be a comeback uttered. Something to do with being mindful of what’s plastered across one’s own face before they deem it suitable to make comments about another’s. Vanitas skips that step and jumps straight into the second, which would happen to consist of a wad of wet sand splattering against Sora’s cheek.

* * *

At sunset, Vanitas returns to the Land of Departure by way of dark corridor. There, he finds Ventus waiting at the bottom of the front steps, one leg drawn up in a slack hug and a novel spread open across his uniform thigh. A leaf he’s been using in place of a bookmark is pinched between digits not tasked with turning pages.

Though Vanitas’s tension has long since been dulled by the distraction he’ll never confess proved welcome, a balmy feeling makes its rounds at the sight, disposing of its vestiges.

The clap of the book’s closure signals to him that Ventus has noticed his presence before all else.

“Hey! Welcome back! Did’ja have fun today?”

“Your idea of 'fun’ is the same as Sora’s, so you’d probably be inclined to tell me that I did.”

The blonde smirks and tilts his head in a way that’s far too knowing for Vanitas’s tastes. Intent to muss hair and administer shoves articulated by the dramatic curvature of his raised hands, he encroaches upon his other half, finding a peculiar sense of satisfaction in the way Ventus chortles as he struggles to bat him away.

“Hey! _Hey!_ Don’t you wanna hear the good news?” This warrants stillness. “We finished way earlier than we thought, so you’re free to go wherever!” Paired with a faint scratch of his cheek is an addendum. “Just, uh... don’t track any dirt. Or sand, in your case. Actually, take your shoes off the minute you leave the training hall.”

“Fine,” Vanitas consents, retracting his arms and stepping aside so as to return Ventus’s precious personal space to him. “Then I’m taking a nap. Don’t bother me ‘til tomorrow.”

“That’s not a _nap_ , Vanitas.”

The addressed, humming his acknowledgement in neither the affirmative nor negative, starts up the steps, traversing about a fourth of them before he’s interrupted.

“Oh! Um...”

“What?”

A snicker takes priority over the explanation.

“You’ve got a crab on your butt. A weird one, too.”

_“A—”_

Sure enough, a hasty removal of the jacket tied around his waist puts a crablike life form, its delicate palette of pinks and seafoam greens and the vice grip it’s had on his hood for who knows how long on full display. The textured insignia that decorates its cuticle is unmistakable.

“Wait a sec. Is that—”

Vanitas doesn’t give Ventus—or himself—more of an opportunity to speculate. In a heartbeat, he and the new breed of Unversed have melted into an inky puddle of darkness concentrate that jets up the remainder of the staircase and into the castle.

That’s one way to avoid tracking sand.


End file.
